


Sex-Shop Stock-Check

by orphan_account



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: BDSM, Ball Gags, Bondage, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Brother/Brother Incest, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Exhibitionism, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Nipple Clamps, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sex Toys, Spitroasting, Spreaders, Vibrators, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-08
Updated: 2018-11-08
Packaged: 2019-08-20 17:14:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,347
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16559924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Keith really wanted to try a vibrator.He knew he couldn't ask his father or brother, but he also knew he couldn't afford one alone. Keith would take a risk and try to steal one from the shop, as he hoped that he could find some pleasure from the stolen goods, but little did he expect to be caught by the store-owner: Lance. He would be made to pay in the most delicious way possible.





	Sex-Shop Stock-Check

_It was open . . ._

A tinkle rang from the bell above the door. Keith fixated his eyes on the adjacent shop, where a display of college textbooks showcased a variety of expensive authors, but he watched as a man darted out of the side entrance in the alley, with his head low and collar upward. He was a stereotype of every pervert from every movie, except for how he relaxed and walked with normal mannerisms once assimilated into the crowd. Keith watched him as he departed.

The store itself waited just to his side, with its windows blacked out. It was impossible to know what waited inside, only that – after so much casual observation – most people used the side-entrance and lacked the confidence to stride in through the front door. Keith swallowed hard, as his heart raced in his chest. He looked both ways down the street, as people milled to and fro with little consideration for a teenager before a book-store, and yet his feet refused to work, as he remained fixed to the pavement with numb limbs and lips.

It took a few more breaths for him to make the dash. He ran straight through the alleyway, with the bricked arch above blocking out all light, and skidded to a halt right in front of an unremarkable door, which lacked even a basic ‘open’ or ‘closed’ sign. Keith dropped his hand to the doorknob, as he chanced one last glance down the alleyway, but – without a single sole lingering at the entrance – nothing seemed amiss. He threw open the door.

_Silence._

He expected a loud welcome, but the cashier never looked up from his desk. The shop itself looked innocuous enough, as if it were any other store in the city, and yet he jumped a few steps forward when the door clicked shut, letting out a ring of the bell. He spun rapidly around with his hands in a gesture of mock surrender. The cashier simply rolled his eyes, as he flicked the pages of his magazine. No other response was provided.

Keith sighed and looked over the man. He was handsome with rich brown hair and bright blue eyes, while his skin was so dark that it complemented his features well, and the name-tag simply read ‘Lance’, while he hunched over with a thin frame. It would make it a little harder for Keith to do what he came to do, as the guilt and shame already burned inside his stomach, but he found enough strength to slink through the aisles. One aisle was dedicated just to magazines, while another featured fancy-dress and costumes . . .

“Sex toys are at the back, dude,” called Lance.

Keith turned bright red, as his mouth fell wide open. The heat through his body was uncomfortable and sticky, as clothes clung to skin with sweat, and he swayed a little where he stood, as he looked over to Lance and saw the young man with a bright smirk. It irked him to be condescended toward, but equally there was power in the man that sent shivers down his spine and brought a spark of arousal to his groin. A twitch of his member made his trousers tent, as he spun around and darted to the back of the sex shop with a low head. Lance asked:

“Are you over eighteen?”

“Of course,” muttered Keith. “I wouldn’t be in here else, right?”

“Okay, well, just so you know -?” Lance pointed to a television. “We record _everything_ in this shop from all angles. It helps against shoplifters, but we also use it to film some of the kinkier sods that agree to have their videos posted online. We open up early for one guy, who fuels our fat fetish circle . . . he uses some of the sounding devices to get off.”

“I – I’m not like one of – of – of those people! I only came in here to grab a – a – a toy, but it’s not as though I can ask my pops to pick me one up from town. My friend . . . she said . . . I think she recommended something called a ‘Jessica Rabbit’, I don’t know.”

“Oh? That’s the red one in the far corner.”

Keith shoved his hands into his pockets. He strode over to the exact location, while Lance picked up a remote and clicked a button, and – turning around – Keith saw a television mounted on a wall not far from the cashier . . . it played a scene of a man pounding into a woman from behind, until another button was pressed . . . it showed the shop counter. The image of Lance stared out behind the screen with a smirk, as cameras all around the shop suddenly entered his field of vision, and Keith almost regretted his plan.

He hopped from foot to foot, while his heart raced. He bit into his lip. A vibrator stood exposed and out of its box on a stand, like as a display piece, and it would be easy to grab and easier to hide as he ran away from the shop. It would be easy to say that he stole it for a prank, assuming anyone would even want to press charges, and then he could get some actual pleasure, without dreaming of an ideal boyfriend that might never come.

A glance back to Lance showed he was reading again. Keith sucked in a deep breath, waited a few long seconds, and – his heart reached its absolute peak – snatched at the vibrator and rammed it into his pocket . . . _he ran_. . . every beating of his heart blocked out all other sounds, while his sweat-soaked palms struggled to reach out for the doorknob, and he threw himself at the door with great force. It stayed shut. A cold dread overcame Keith.

The blind panic overwhelmed him, as he yanked and shoved at the door. He threw the entire weight of his body against it, while his vision turned white and colourful spots danced about the room, and – growing dizzy – his breath came out in low pants. Tears threatened to spill from his eyes, as they distorted his sight and veiled the room. Keith jangled the handle over and over and over . . . _‘come on, come on’ . . ._ eventually he stopped and stepped back, before he cast his gaze over to the counter and stared with terror at Lance. Lance smiled.

“It automatically locks,” said Lance. “I have to buzz you out.”

“C-Can you -? Can you just let me go?”

“Only once I think you’ve learned your lesson about theft.”

Lance stepped out from behind the counter. He strode over to Keith with a dangerous smirk, as he raked his eyes slowly from feet to head, and – with a chuckle – pulled out a pair of handcuffs that he dangled from one finger, with little clicks from the links. The pink fur around them was darted with black leopard spots, so they were clearly designed for something sexual in nature, and yet Keith could only feel a swell of horror, as he tried again at the door and shook his head with tears spilling over his eyes. They ran down his cheeks.

“I need you to step this way,” said Lance.

The handcuffs were slapped on his wrists. They locked tight, so that his hands were effectively bound together, and Lance dragged him towards the counter with a lick of his lips, as Keith struggled to keep pace without overbalancing in the process. Lance stopped only at the counter. It took a few seconds for Keith to realise what was happening, as Lance reached up for a retractable chain and pulled it downward towards Keith. He tied it to the handcuffs.

It meant nothing to Keith at first, as he pulled with a curious testing of restraints, but Lance took a remote from the side of the cash register . . . he pressed a button. The chain slowly started to retract, so that Keith’s hands were pulled upward and no amount of strength could yank the chain back to its starting position, but the retraction would not stop! Keith was on tiptoe, until it carried on, forcing him to crawl onto the counter. He knelt with hands strained over his head, until the chain finally stopped and kept him firmly in position.

“You make a pretty sight, boy,” gasped Lance.

Keith was spun around. He faced the side-entrance to the shop, overlooking all the stock, and his eyes also chanced a brief look to the television, where he saw his images reflected back at him with a mixture of terror and morbid curiosity of what was next. No one ever bestowed this level of attention on him before, with him the centrepiece of a room. He screwed shut his eyes. A twitch of his member brought a sharp hiss to his lips, as he felt himself harden even despite the panic that caused his sweat-soaked body to shiver and rock.  

Footsteps returned to his bound form, before they came around the counter. Keith’s eyes shot wide open. He craned his head to see behind him, but Lance was too far out of his line of sight, and so he was forced to look to the television, where he saw a long metal bar with two leather cuffs on either end. Keith furrowed his brow, as he bit awkwardly into his lips and tried to ascertain the usage of such a device, and his cock grew ever harder.

A pair of hands reached around him for his belt buckle . . . a blind terror overcame Keith . . . he struggled and fought and kicked, as Lance shoved his trousers and underwear down to his knees, and – tears spilling forth – Keith gulped huge bouts of air . . . _‘no, no, no’_. . . the short jacket and t-shirt meant nothing protected his modesty. Two pert and plump buttocks would be on display for Lance to ogle, while his hard cock could be seen on the television screen, as it dribbled pre-come down the underside and onto his aching balls. Keith mewled.

“If you want me to stop, say ‘cucumber’,” instructed Lance.

Keith bit into his lip until he tasted blood. The word threatened to spill out, as the fear boiled and raged inside him, and already there was bile and undigested food in the back of his throat, as it merged with the blood and became a disgusting mess beyond what was bearable. He was on the verge of a panic attack, but equally Lance was so _fucking hot_! If Lance wanted to use and abuse him, it was better than some stolen self-pleasure with a shoplifted sex toy, and he could finally lose his virginity . . . finally be a man . . . so why was he so scared?

“You know, I might gag you,” said Lance.

“I – I don’t – I can’t –”

“Just stamp your knees over and over for ‘stop’.” Lance slapped his bottom. “I mean it, kid. I want to punish you for this shit, but I’m not a fucking rapist. You keep your eyes straight on that television, so you can watch what I’m doing to you, but stamp your knees for ‘no’ and pull on the chain for ‘more’. I’ll stop if you tell me to stop, I promise.”

A ball-gag was suddenly shoved into his mouth. Keith spluttered and choked at first, as he shook his head violently from side-to-side and fought to bite at long fingers and spit out the piece of plastic, but – against all his efforts – the ball was shoved too far inside and the straps were tightened around his head. He drew in hissing breaths and drool ran from the corner of his lips . . . _‘breathe, boy, breathe’ . . ._ Keith slowed his breathing, as Lance massaged at his buttocks and kissed at his bare legs, and soon calmed down.

The long metal rod was then picked up, before it was shoved between his legs just above the knee, and – as Keith watched his legs placed into the handcuffs – he realised there was a large hole centre of the ball in his gag, which he could put his tongue through and waggle obscenely to the camera, as he flushed a deep shade of crimson. The leather cuffs locked around his legs, before the device was adjusted and spread his legs impossibly wide.

It was a strain that brought an ache to his muscles. He could no longer properly move his legs, while his arms were pulled high over his head, and his mouth was blocked by a gag that left drool continuing to run down his chin, as he suckled and licked at it with curious flickers of his tongue against cheap plastic. Keith mewled and rocked his hips. The hard cock was weeping profusely from the slit, while the vein underneath throbbed in time with his heart.

Lance spanked him again. He hit Keith with the palm of his hand, before striking him once more  . . . more . . . _more, more, more_ . . . the pain was so deliciously sweet, that Keith was yanked hard on the chain and writhing in his awkward position, until Lance – with a chuckle – snatched a paddle from a side-display with a rough gesture. This time, _it hurt_. The camera angle changed to a low position behind him, with a lens likely hidden in the counter itself, and he cried out to see his pale buttocks red and marked with the shape of hands and wood.

“You fucking whore,” spat Lance. “You love this, don’t you?”

Keith mewled and nodded.

“Yeah, you little bitch . . . you little cock-tease!”

Lance dropped the paddle, only to yank at a cane. He pushed Keith’s t-shirt up high, until it bunched under his armpits and exposed erect nipples, and used the cane to strike at his buttocks over and over again, until there were red welts all over his flesh. Keith’s pupils were blown wide, as his cock bounced and throbbed with pleasure, and soon – as he yanked again and again at the chains – cuts appeared over his cheeks, until blood ran down his thighs and over the spreader, and red stained his underwear and trousers. It was beautiful.

He barely noticed as the cane was thrown aside. The wounds ached and throbbed and stung, while the warm blood made his skin feel cold as air caught the liquid, and he was already so close to orgasm that he could barely function or think or comprehend his situation. He was already gasping for breath when the clamps were attached. The metal went straight onto his nipples, with a small chain between the two, and they caused immense discomfort.

It took only one tug for him to break.

A sharp and horrid pain shot through his nipples, but an intense burst of arousal followed in turn, and the mixture of sensations . . . _pain and pleasure, humiliation and pride_. . . pure bliss shot through every nerve, as he clenched at the chain above until his knuckles turned white and he choked on his drool. He threw back his head. He curled his toes. The ropes of come shot far across the floor, soaking into the carpet with white streaks, and his eyes rolled back into his head until he fell limp and only the chain kept him upright.

“Holy shit,” whispered Lance. “You’re a fucking angel.”

It took a few seconds for Keith to regain his vision, as he moaned low and long with head lolling to each side, and – panting for breath – he saw his red chest in the television set, along with his deflating member still dripping come onto counter beneath him. Lance was already behind him, parting his cheeks and shoving his face between them, but Keith was unable to ask through the ball-gag what was happening . . . what Lance wanted . . . Keith only knew what was next when a tongue probed at his winking brown hole.

The television screen was changed to a four-square mode. He saw his hole up-close, as a long and thick tongue prodded inside the puffed circle, and he also saw his limp and dangling body from in front, as one camera caught a full view. The other two images seemed to be a full-body image was behind and a close-up of his cock from below. The tongue was a pleasant sensation, but not quite enough to bring him back to arousal so soon.

“I bet you wanted this from the start.” Lance pulled back to slurp at his hole. “You know this place is licensed to put on sex shows, right? Oh God, I want to hire you for those nights. You could be fucked over and over by men in front of an audience, just getting this boy-cunt of yours rammed until you can no longer walk, while dripping in gallons of fucking come.”

A pop of a bottle sounded out. Keith glanced to the television set and saw Lance opening a bottle of what must have been lubrication, before squirting out a huge amount onto one hand with the scent of strawberries filling the air and merging with the sweat. The tongue was returned again, but it didn’t get in deep . . . it was teasing, tormenting . . . Keith bucked back against that face, but it wasn’t enough to get what he wanted. Tears streamed over his cheeks.

“I have a proper job for you, though,” continued Lance. “I need a ‘living model’ for the weekends. You just have to walk around in costume, like the leather gear or a maid costume or whatever, and you have to demonstrate the stock for the customers, either on them or on yourself according to preference. ‘No’ is not a word. The customer is always right.”

Keith nodded over and over, as he yanked at his chain.

“They pay an entry fee of twenty dollars, just for the privilege of looking at you and taking photos of you and even video of you, but . . . any item you demonstrate, they _have_ to buy and pay an extra ten-dollar charge for the ‘demonstration’. We’d both earn a bundle.”

Keith tried to moan a ‘yes’. The sound was cut short. He screamed out in ecstasy, as a finger was shoved roughly inside him right to the knuckle, and – instinctively clenching around the invading digit – pleasure coursed through his cock and made it hard again. Lance must have been able to feel every internal ridge, each soft and fleshly bump slowly explored by the soft pads of his fingertip, until he turned his finger and crooked it into a come-hither motion, where he brushed against the prostate with surprising skill and ease.

It was unlike any other sensation. The blast of absolute satisfaction sent sparks over his vision, so that he could see bursts of colour and growing shapes, and his back arched with a clatter of the chain between the nipple clamps, as his buttocks burned from the welts. Lance laughed and shoved a second finger inside him, while he made scissor motions and constantly pressed against the prostate over and over and over . . . Keith thrust back in time to the fingers.

“You wanted to use that vibrator, right?”

Lance reached up to yank at the nipple clamps, while he added a third finger inside Keith, and then – as Keith sobbed uncontrollably from so many mixed emotions – slid his free hand into the jacket pocket and took out the vibrator, before he turned it onto the lowest setting with a loud buzz that was audible even over the sobs and rattles and groans. He pulled his fingers out of Keith’s hole . . . the absence made it feel like his hole was gaping, with lubrication trickling over his thighs, while a cold draught blew made him shiver . . .

“Let’s put your pussy to use, bitch,” spat Lance.

A squirt of lubrication signalled further preparation, as Lance slathered the plastic with the strawberry-scented liquid, and slowly – _slowly –_ each inch of plastic was slid inside his back passage, until it reached the fake balls at the root, leaving him filled to completion. Keith knew enough from stories to relax and push out, easing the entry inside, but he was not prepared for the overwhelming desire that coursed through every vein.

He yanked hard at the chain above, while bucking backwards with great speed, and – without mercy – Lance turned the vibrator to its maximum setting inside him, where it rotated and vibrated right against his prostate with massive intensity and pressure. It stole all breath. It blacked out his vision. He never noticed as the side-door opened . . . a soft click and someone asking for the latest issue of ‘Big Butts Monthly’ . . . Keith bounced up and down on the vibrator, as Lance held it firmly at its base, while struggling to look at the intruder.

It was difficult to focus, but he vaguely recognised his brother. Shiro stood in the doorway with mouth dropped open and his skin flushed red, while he babbled aimlessly and emptily words that failed to make any sense, and that was when Keith saw it . . . _he was aroused_. A low purr escaped Keith, before it turned into a mewl and then a moan, and he tugged hard over and over at the chain, before Lance laughed and pressed a button.

The chain fell slack.

Keith barely had time to catch himself against the counter, especially with weak and numb arms, but somehow he stayed upright despite feeling so weak . . . so used . . . _so dirty_. . . he was on all fours when the vibrator was slid out from his hole, leaving him sobbing uncontrollably and hysterically tugging at the chain, as he tried to gasp ‘more’ from behind the gag. He choked and sobbed and wept, as Shiro slowly stepped towards the countertop and unzipped his huge erection from his trousers. It was too thick and long for words.

“I wasn’t expecting this when I came in,” gasped Shiro.

“It’s all consensual,” said Lance. “I caught him shoplifting, but – hey – I think he’s going to be willing to work off his debt here in the shop. He agreed to be a living model for me, which is great as Lotor quit once he graduated. You can go rough as you want on this little come-slut –” Lance slapped at his buttocks “– he’s into pain and likes blood.”

“You get his ass and I get his throat? He’s gagging for it . . .”

“Sounds like a deal to me,” laughed Lance.

A dick was slid deep inside his rectum. Keith screamed out, as a sharp tearing pain shot through his behind, but there was a warm there . . . fullness . . . it was like a metal rod with a velvet cover, so that he couldn’t help but milk it with his ass muscles. He was nearly incoherent as Lance rammed inside him, until the only sound was balls slapping against blood-soaked buttocks and the squelch of lubrication squirting over his bruised hole.

A pair of hands dug into his hair, pulling sharp at the roots. It distracted him, as he gazed up with hazy eyes at his brother licking his lips, and Keith – mewling like a kitten – pushed his tongue with the hole of the ball and flicked it with an obscene gesture. Shiro swore. The thick and flared head of his weeping cock was rammed through the hole, until it struck the back of Keith’s throat, and the taste of pre-come ran hot and heavy all over his tongue. Keith gagged and retched, as his throat contracted over the head with strong grips.

Shiro gave no time for reprieve. It was a horrific sensation of choking, as he pulled in and out and in and out, and yet there was something so deeply erotic about being used by his brother, who fucked into his mouth with wild abandon. Drool ran over the dick and down his chin, while both men pounded into both holes . . . using him . . . fucking him . . . reducing him to an object wanted and desire and needed . . . it was good . . . so good!

“Oh, you’re so good, baby boy,” gasped Shiro.

It was enough to send Keith spiralling . . .

He came again, albeit dry and with minimal spurts. The clenching of his inner walls sent Lance hurting into a mind-blowing orgasm, as he slammed balls deep inside, and – with public hair tickling at bruised buttocks – pumps of hot come flooded his inside, sending a beautiful haze of pain with his pleasure, as salty come struck at small tears. Lance slammed his hands on either side of his spread knees, as he grunted like a wild animal.

A few seconds later, Shiro came. The come filled his mouth until Keith wept in earnest and struggled to hold back his vomit, and – as Shiro screamed until his voice broke – eventually hands lets go of black hair and Keith could breathe again . . . come and vomit spilled from his nostrils and mouth, merging into a unique mixture, until someone snapped the straps of the gag. It came loose and he drew in vast gasps of air, before collapsing onto his side and letting the cool countertop freeze his hot and sweat-soaked flesh. He moaned.

Shiro wiped at his dick and tucked himself away. Lance stayed exposed and flicked through the camera angles, while seemingly rewinding to the moment of climax, and Keith blacked out from the sheer explosion of emotion and sensations . . . he awoke weeping with his head on Shiro’s lap, while thick fingers worked through his hair. He was fully naked and lying on the floor, while Lance murmured something about finding a change of clothes.

“Do you really want to be a living model?” Shiro asked.

Keith wiped at his tears with laughter. He tried to sit upright, but collapsed again with pain, and yet the pain brought with it arousal . . . desire . . . it reminded him that he was alive and wanted and finally _worth_ something in life. Keith instinctively spread his legs and arched his back, as he ran his hands over his clothed body and licked his lips. He was being held by his brother after being fucked for the first time by a total stranger, after sucking off his brother’s cock and drinking his come. Keith wanted to be bred by them. He wanted more.

“When do I start work?” Keith asked.


End file.
